There's One in Every Family...

"They" say there's one in every family, that one person who marches to a beat of a different drummer. In our family, that person is my son Connor. Not because he insists on wearing his "grandpa hat" wherever he goes, or the clip-on sunglasses, or the fact that his clothes haven't matched since he outgrew geranimals, or even that on occasion he slippes into Yoda speak. No, it's much worse than that - my son is a Cubs fan. Ugh - where did we go wrong?? Was he dropped on his head as an infant? Brain washed by my sister-in-law? Abducted by aliens? Who knows, but it's troubling. Those of you in New York, California, Pennsylvania, and Texas know what I'm talking about. If your state has more than one team, you're born supporting a team for life, the team your parents, and their parents before them, have decided on before you even existed. Apparently nobody ever explained that to Connor.

Let me give you a little history. When I was a kid, my mom, grandma, and great aunt would go to Comisky Park to watch the Sox. Three generations of gals sitting in the warm sun, the air smelling of peanuts, cotton candy and spilled beer. My gram and aunt would sit in the bleachers, Sox hats perched trucker style on their heads, their faces hidden by 70's style sunglasses, score cards in hand, discussing players like Bucky Dent, Bill Melton, and Jerry Hairston. Harry Carey would be singing drunkenly during the 7th inning stretch (we'd also be listening to him on a transister radio, calling the game) I may not have know what was going on in those early years, but they laid the foundation for me to become a life-long White Sox fan. The love of the game , and my team stayed with me through-out the years. Trips with family or friends to the ball park was always a great time, and I got to see some of the best players in action: Carlton Fisk, Ozzie Guillen, Robin Ventura, Big Frank Thomas, Black-Jack McDowwell and Tim Raines. White Sox trivia became a litmus test for prospective boyfriends, and my husband passed them all. Five years after we were married, along came Connor. We were filled with visions of family outings to Sox games, all of us decked out head-to-toe in black and white, waiting in line to get autographs before the game for our son, which he would cherish later in life. I realize now that that is never going to happen, we have a Civil War in our house - the South Side vs. the North Side, mother vs. son, and it breaks my heart. Fortunatly for us, there's Aidan. Aidan had the good sense to be born on game one of the 2005 World Series, which the White Sox won. That fact alone, seals his fate. While I'm upset that my first born son isn't following family tradition, I am proud of him for claiming his independance and sticking to his guns, despite pressure to do otherwis. After all, there's always one in every family...